Welcome to Gaia! ::

Annjette has been put to bed for the night. I believe that Voltaire is right - she has been quite sleepy these past few days. Perhaps she'll perk up when I show her the cloak I've made for her. I've been careful and kept it hidden. The cloak is hemmed, and I've started the embroidery on the hood and back -

I can't stand it, this talk of mundane things. There have been times when I've honestly wanted to scream! And I've never had the chance... I threw a tantrum once, in my early childhood. Father hit me and sent me up to my room. The only human contact I got for the next two days was when the servants brought food up to me. Father thought it would help me "learn my place."

It did. I learned to control myself after that. Even Shamira couldn't change that in me.

Shamira.

I suppose it's time I told you about her, isn't it.

Know that I do not enjoy relating this story. It pains me terribly. [a teardrop stains the page] But I feel that it is necessary. I have to tell it to somebody, if only to, in some way, scream in silence.

To begin: I was rarely allowed outside of the house, and even then only with the direct supervision of Mother or Father. Sometimes, if I was very lucky, it was my mother alone. She would often wander off to a stall in the market, drawing our guards with her. One of those times, just under a year ago, I met Shamira.

She was singing and dancing by a fountain, and she was beautiful to me. Not just physically, either. Imagine: you've been controlled and put down and told you're worthless except for marriage... and then you see a woman, not much older than you, who is the epitome of freedom. She can cry to the heavens, she is unmarried, she is on equal ground with the men of her small band of gypsies.

She was absolutely beautiful.

We- [the writing stops abruptly]

I took a walk along the river today. I needed the fresh air. Everything was very calm, and along the river bank I found shining stones and beautiful shells. I brought about fourteen back with me, and now... I don't quite know what to do with them!

I suppose I could keep them, work them into clothing or jewelry of some sort to trade or sell. But... looking at them, I don't feel they're destined for that end.

Perhaps...

Ah! I have an idea - I will give the shells and stones as gifts! Gifts of thanks to Voltaire and Oqaia... and to the other gypsies, I'll write a note accompanying the shells and stones asking to meet them. I do so need to meet the others... I've isolated myself far too much.

Now, to write the letters and then deliver them! Off to work with me!

Many things have happened over the past day that must be set down on paper! For one thing, I am sitting on my own bed in my own wagon, now. While I came to regard Clair d'Lune as my home, it was never mine and mine alone - I was always a guest.

But now--!

No, I need to start at the beginning. I'm so bad about that! I always rush right in without telling the proper background story...

This morning, I realized that I needed to stretch my legs. I needed to do something besides sit inside Voltaire's wagon and embroider, sew, darn clothing... Vanna needed some fresh air, as well, and more room to stretch her wings. While walking along the road our caravan is traveling on - we're on our way to the mountains - I came across a woman, a trader, Merce, in tears. I asked her what was wrong, and she responded, in a language that I've only read and never heard, that she couldn't understand me.

Apparently, she lost her Blarnbird, St Phier, who was so enchanted as to allow easy understanding between her and her customers. Without it, she was lost in a world that she couldn't understand. St Phier had been attacked by a vulture and fallen into the nearby forest... and hadn't returned.

While I stayed by her side and comforted her, Vanna went looking for St Phier. She was gone for some time, but eventually St Phier burst from the canopy and came right back to Merce. Vanna followed a minute later, exhausted and dirty, but pleased with herself.

Merce gave me a stone in return for helping her. She said that if I spun it in the palm of my hand, it would take me home. Then she disappeared over a ridge, leaving me alone with Vanna.

Vanna wanted me to use the stone. She sounded so insistent that I couldn't ignore her - I spun the stone. It grew warm and pointed to the forest. Vanna took off as fast as she could, and I was left running, trying to catch up with her. In the forest was an old path that led to a clearing. In the clearing was a wagon. It was old but whole, delicate but sturdy... covered in moss and ivy (I need to clean it off tomorrow). Yoked to it was a statue of a horse. When I touched the wagon, the stone burned my hand, and I dropped it. There was this flash of teal light, and when it faded, the statue was a living, breathing, beautiful black horse. The wagon itself hadn't changed, but the horse motioned for me to get into the wagon.

I did. The door opened easily at my touch. Vanna flew in with the stone, leaving it smoking on the floor of the wagon. It was dark and musty inside then, but very cozy and nice. There is a chest here from the previous owner, filled with some dresses of blues and purples. They fit - I've tried.

I went out and helped move the wagon from its old rut, the horse helping. I still need to decide on a name for him....


Returning to the road, I was astonished to see, of all people, Merce! She had brought cages filled with beautifully colored "Banya birds" - apparently, they tell fortunes - and had come to trade. When she saw me, she said she had another gift for me, in thanks.

It was a blue Banya, more than twice the size of Vanna. Maybe closer to a falcon? He still needs a name, too. Shall think of names... well, why not now?

For the horse... Caelebre.

For the Banya... Aleysius.

In any case... the gift of Aleysius gave me indescribable joy. That woman is something else - she's calm, collected, knows herself... she's beautiful, in that way. I thanked her. There was nothing else I could think of to do.

Besides, I had a few things I had to take care of. Mainly, moving out of Clair.

I don't have much, so it didn't take long. I gathered up the clothing I had, gifts from the other caravan members, along with my harp and small angel doll. Annjette didn't want me to leave, and I spent a while assuring her that I wouldn't be far away, just in a different wagon, and that she could come ride with me whenever she wished.

That and my promise never to disappear seemed to ease the girl's mind, so I turned my attention to thanking Voltaire. I'm so grateful for all that's done for me. I'll never forget his kindness.

Now that I'm in my new wagon, I suppose it needs a name, as well. Unfortunately, I don't have any ideas. Hmm... it will come in time, I suppose. I-